When I told people that my newest novel was to be set in the present day, many were surprised. After all, my books thus far have all been either historical fiction or fantasy.
Yet in one specific way it was not such a leap. Because every book I write, whatever genre it is, starts with an idea – an image, a person, sometimes a few words. A lightning flash when I glimpse something for the briefest of moments and know I will not be content, or sleep easy, until I see it again, explore it, understand it.
The lightning blast for One London Day began with an incident that happened to a friend of mine. Horrific, nasty. My friend witnessed a murder – a hit, actually, right outside her front door in a quiet, affluent street in North London. One man had been paid to kill another. Kill her neighbour.
It was gang related. However I was not so interested in the true story. What fascinated me was where it happened, in that quiet suburban street; when, on just another day; and finally to such an ostensibly ordinary man.
That was the flash that lit my way. I wasn’t even a novelist at the time – over twenty years ago. But I knew I wanted to write. So I jotted down some notes under the title, ‘Ordinary Day’. Came up with a few characters. Then ran out of steam and confidence as I was prone to do. Put the notebook away… until three years ago, and eighteen novels later, I stumbled across them, those first scratchings. Remembered the lightning bolt. Asked myself again: who was that ordinary man? And why the hell was he ‘hit’?
Then the novel came in a rush. I decided fast that I didn’t want to do something totally conventional. I didn’t want the hero vs. villain arc of most fiction. I didn’t want a single protagonist. I wanted one character to be connected to another and them to another and so on. In the end, six viewpoints on the same incident to explain why this respectable man - wife, family, conventional job - got killed? What choices had he made that had led to such a disastrous outcome? I also decided to compress the timeline. Do almost all the action on that one day.
So I began at the beginning - with the assassin, Mr Phipps and the hit itself. Flashbacked to five days before to the victim, Joseph Severin, and his sudden totally out-of-character ‘amour fou’ for Lottie, a pianist. Who is trying to fall out of love with Joseph, the latest, hottest young black actor. Who is obsessed by Sonya, a beautiful Russian escort… who is only selling her body to make enough money to pay for her daughter’s cancer operation in the US. Severin is an accountant, and has been doing the books – double entry, in ledgers, old school, because the only trail you can’t trace these days is a paper one – for the Shadows, a rogue MI6 outfit run by the upper-class sociopath, Sebastien. Who calls for the hit.
Not a whodunnit then, but a whydunnit. A character study of mostly ordinary people caught up in extraordinary events, all in the guise of a thriller.
What also really intrigued me, was to mostly set it in the North London where I lived for years, among the people I grew up with. It is therefore, in lots of ways, my most personal novel. Not only because of that background but because it is written how I think. No ‘epic’ as I might use in historical fiction, say. Shorter length, snappy sentences, with the characters able to hold various things simultaneously in their minds. An example: Mr Phipps, the hitman, checking his Glock in the boot of his car pre-hit, having to re-arrange the stuffed toys he won for his seven year old daughter at the Hampstead Fair, annoyed with his ex-wife wanting him to babysit on a ‘working day’. Or like Lottie, the pianist, writing letters she’ll never send to the man she can no longer love, while becoming the focus of an ordinary man’s sudden obsession.
I had huge fun writing it. It confused the hell out of most of the crime editors of London who, though they raved about its ‘Noir’ stylings and multi-level characters, simply couldn’t get their heads around the fact that there was no hero (though there is one absolutely dastardly villain!). That it was told from so many points of view. So I published it myself. Commissioned an amazing cover from my uber-talented designer friend Rob Edmonds. Took notes from agents and novelist friends. Wrote and re-wrote.
I love all my books. They are, in so many ways, like my children. I have a special fondness for this one. Probably because it is unconventional, deeply personal, quirky, yet still the kind of pacy ride for which I am known.
I always miss characters when I finish a novel, even when I am ‘making new friends’ in my next projects. But, unless I kill them off, (which, admittedly, does happen a fair bit in C.C. Humphreys’ book!) I know they have carried on living their lives. So I often wonder what choices they have made since that One London Day, which changed everything.
One London Day by C C Humphreys (Out Now)
July 30th 2018. It’s the hottest Summer in fifty years and Joseph Severin, a respectable North London businessman, has taken on a lucrative side job. He’s doing the books, old school, (because these days the only trail you can’t trace is a paper one) for a rogue MI5 outfit, the Shadows, headed by clever, psychopathic Sebastien. When the game is rumbled, he sends their hitman, Mr Phipps, to kill Severin and get those books back. For a simple man, Severin has a complicated life. He’s developed a sudden and wild passion for Lottie – aka ‘chaos on two legs’. Who is in love with Patrick, the next hot young black actor. Who is obsessed by Sonya, a gorgeous Russian escort. Who has one night to make the final money she needs for her daughter’s cancer operation. With MI6 onto them, and the books missing, the Shadows panic. And a day that begins with a hit in Finchley ends in violence and betrayal on the steamy night streets of Portobello.
You can buy One London Day here.
More information about the author can be found on his website.
You can also find him on Twitter @HumphreysCC and on Facebook
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